


The Wheel of a Year: Samhain

by The_Shadow



Series: The Wheel of a Year [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Holiday, One Crazy Night, Pranks, Romance, Samhain, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shadow/pseuds/The_Shadow
Summary: Halloween is always a sad and often an eventful day for Harry. So when a chance encounter with Pansy Parkinson offers him a way to avoid face people, he takes it and finds himself on a strange adventure.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Series: The Wheel of a Year [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994716
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	The Wheel of a Year: Samhain

Harry watched as the bonfire crackled before him. It was perhaps the strangest Halloween celebration he’d seen at Hogwarts and that was including the time he went Nearly Headless Nick’s Death Day party.

It had been McGonagall’s idea, he’d been told, to return the Hogwarts Halloween celebration to its ancient roots. So while there was a feast planned as always, first they were having their fire festival.

They-those who’d elected to participate-had gathered around the pile of wood and tinder that was to be the bonfire. The school rarely made the students wear their formal robes outside of classes, but that night it had been a requirement.

Once they’d circled around, they’d been passed out torches-and for some reason a rock with their initials on it-while McGonagall explained to them the history of Halloween, or Samhain as she insisted on calling it. Harry would have been lying if he’d said he was paying that much attention to what she was saying. She wasn’t much more interesting than Binns when she was talking about history and he was too lost in his own thoughts to focus. The fact that a gleeful Seamus was standing next to him, far too pleased with the prospect of a torch, didn’t help matters.

The only thing that was enough to snap Harry back to attention was the bonfire suddenly bursting into flames.

“Now light your torches and take them to the edge of the grounds,” McGonagall instructed, her accent sounding thicker than normal. “Don’t worry, the torch will lead to where you need to go. After that, you may go to the feast, but be sure to come back before the fire dies to throw your rock into it.”

Harry stepped forward and the moment his torch was lit, he felt a sense of calm not unlike the time he took the _Felix Felicis_ potion he’d won off of Slughorn. Without consciously deciding to, he walked off in the direction his feet were leading him.

At first, there were the Gryffindor boys to keep him company on the walk and he joked with Ron and told Seamus off for not being more careful with his torch. Honestly, it would be a bloody miracle if he didn’t burn the fields away before the night was out.

But the further they went on, the more their paths diverged. At first they’d shouted at each other to try and carry on the conversation, but it wasn’t long before the rapidly distant light was the only sign of his classmates.

Harry’s path led him to a far part of the grounds beyond the lake that Harry couldn’t remember ever exploring before and he thought he’d seen all of the grounds in his first year. He smiled. Leave it to Hogwarts to still have a few mysteries for him after all these years.

At the end of his trip, Harry found a small, metal stand in the ground for his torch to stand in. He stuck it in and looked to either side to see the lights in the distance. Whatever purpose McGonagall had for this, she’d be pleased to see it done.

His mission complete, Harry walked without hurry on a meandering path back towards the castle, enjoying a bit of solitude for a change. Halloween was always an eventful day for him. His first year, he’d had to fight a mountain troll. Although that hadn’t been all bad. It did gain him another friend. He smiled, wondering briefly what Hermione was up to. No doubt pestering McGonagall for as much information as possible.

The second year, the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and their third year, Sirius Black had managed to sneak inside the castle. Sirius…

The fourth year might have been the worst, getting chosen to be in the Triwizard Tournament and kicking off the better part of a month where Ron refused to speak to him. It wasn’t exactly something he liked to remember.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst of it was that everyone wanted to talk about it. To ask him questions. To them, it was the day that Voldemort died. And while people had been polite enough to hide it from him when he first came to Hogwarts-or maybe it was just another way Dumbledore had shielded him-he learned that the day was like a modern-day Guy Fawkes day for the wizarding world. Somewhere, all over Britain, people were celebrating the end of the last wizarding war by burning effigies of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

None of them, aside from Ron and Hermione, seemed to care that his parents had died in the attack. And he guessed he understood. How many of their own families had been killed in the war? Two more must have seemed like a fair trade.

That didn’t mean it stung any less.

And so he was going to spend Halloween the way he spent every Halloween. Keeping to himself and hoping nothing disastrous happened for a change.

He was back to the castle and at the doors when it happened. Just as he was reaching for the handles, they swung open and the figure coming out nearly collided with him, only missing it by both stopping quickly.

He didn’t recognize her at first. She was costumed much like the little kids he sometimes saw on Privet Dr. But instead of the witches or vampires he was used to seeing, dressed in furs and a mask that might have been made from a real skull, she looked more like a strange beast one might find lurking at the corners of their nightmares. The only part of her that looked human were the bag and basket she carried with her.

In fact, it was only her voice that gave her identity away.

“Harry?” she asked.

Pansy Parkinson. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to ask her what she was up to, but the sight of her was such a shock compared to her normally meticulously perfect appearance that he couldn’t help himself.

“What are you doing?

“I’m going out, aren’t I?”

“Well, yeah. But dressed like that?

“Well, I don’t want to get snatched away by the Fair Folk,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What are you doing? Aren’t you staying for the bonfire?”

“What do you care?” He suddenly realized this was the longest conversation he’d ever had with the girl.

“I don’t,” she snapped. “Now if you’re done wasting my time.”

She shoved her way past him, but only made it a few steps before stopping. She turned around. Looking back forth between him and the grounds ahead, something seemed to change in her.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Pansy asked.

“Come with you?” He thought he must have misheard her.

“Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun. You were raised by muggles, weren’t you? That’s not what I mean,” she said when he opened his mouth. “I’m just saying that you’ve never celebrated a proper wizarding Samhain, have you?”

“I haven’t,” he admitted grudgingly, still not certain why he was talking to her.

“Someone told me they didn’t like you. The muggles, that is. Did they even let you have fun on Halloween?”

Harry’s silence was answer enough. No, they hadn’t let him celebrate Halloween. They weren’t even fond of Dudley dressing up- not that any force on earth could keep Duddley from candy. Looking back, it was probably something deeper than just simply wanting to stamp the magic out of him. Harry reckoned the idea of strange people coming to their door and begging for handouts must have been offensive to them on a truly Dursley level. Not to mention all the hooligans Vernon was always ranting about. Not that anything worse than the occasional destroyed mailbox got as far as Privet Dr.

“That’s what I thought. So you’ll come?”

Harry shrugged. Why not? He wasn’t ready to go back to Gryffindor Tower and he had to admit to himself he was more than a little curious to see what Pansy was talking about.

“Alright,” he said.

Pansy beamed. “Good. Let’s go. There's a party in Hogsmeade tonight and I don’t want to miss it.”

Without waiting to see if he was following, Pansy repositioned her bag on her shoulder and walked down the lane, leaving Harry to follow after her.

“Where are we going?” he asked. He’d assumed they were going straight to Hogsmeade, but Pansy had strode straight past the fork they should have turned on to visit the village. As it was, they were heading towards Hagrid’s Hut.

“The Forbidden Forest. There’s an old cemetery inside.”

Harry nearly stumbled from the shock. He’d only ever been inside the Forest a few times and only under duress or desperate circumstances. Sometimes some of the boys in Gryffindor would start talking big about how they were going to sneak into it one night, but as far as he knew, no one ever had. Given how often the staff downplayed the dangers of anything at Hogwarts, Harry figured that any place that promised a “most painful death” was best avoided.

“You’re not afraid?” He was impressed. He’d underestimated the girl.

“Terrified.” Her jaw set as she walked on, not looking at him

“Why go then?” Harry asked.

“It’s a tradition. My family goes out to a cemetery to tend to it.”

“There isn’t one in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, there is. But it’s well looked after, especially now. I don’t think most people know about this one, actually.”

Harry certainly hadn’t. Of course, it wasn’t as if he knew much about the forest.

“Besides I like the quiet, you know?”

She gave Harry a questioning glance. Harry just nodded. A thought had occurred to him

“You wouldn’t mind a bit of help, would you?” They were almost at Hagrid’s hut.

“Hagrid? I suppose not,” she said, uncertainly. “But I really do need it to be quiet there. It’s important.”

“I understand,” he said, though he really didn’t. “I wasn’t talking about Hagrid. You’ll see.”

Pansy hung up as Harry walked up the path to Hagrid’s door. It was only just as he was knocking that it occurred to Harry that Pansy might have another reason for not wanting to face Hagrid. She had, after all, been part of Malfoy’s gang.

Fang barked and Harry could hear the half-giant shifting about.

“Who’s there?” Hagrid called.

“It’s me, Hagrid.”

There was more shuffling and a moment later, the large, hairy face of Hagrid was greeting him.

“Harry? What are you doing out so late? Come in, come in.”

“I can’t,” Harry said. “I’m just on my way. McGonagall’s Samhain festival, you know?” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I thought it might be a good idea to have Fang with us, if you don’t mind us taking him for a walk?

“We?” Hagrid looked out behind Harry at Pansy who, Harry saw looking over his shoulder had her back turned to them. “Who’s that?”

“Just one of the girls. She asked if I’d walk with her because it’s late.” He tried to sound casual, hoping Hagrid wouldn’t ask anymore questions.

No such luck.

“Not doing anything dodgy, are you?” He looked sharply at him, but there was a bit of twinkle in his eye. “It wouldn’t be the first time I had to chase a Potter away from the Forbidden Forest with a date.”

Harry groaned. Thanks for that, Hagrid.

“No. Just…” He paused, thinking that it might not be the best to admit they were going into the Forbidden Forest. “Taking care of a few things.”

It was a weak explanation he knew, but Hagrid trusted him enough, because he called Fang over.

“Here boy.”

Harry watched, occasionally stealing glances black at Pansy as Hagrid got Fang into his leash.

“I’ll warn you again,” Hagrid said. “He’s a coward. But he’ll scare off anything you might run into. Be careful and send me a patronus if you run into trouble.”

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry said, taking the leash. “Don’t worry. We’ll be alright.”

Hagrid smiled. “Stay for some tea when you bring him back.”

After promising he would, he walked with the giant of a dog pack to Pansy.

“Big dog,” she murmured as they walked away. Hargrid was still watching them as they headed towards the forest.

“You should have met Fluffy,” Harry muttered, waving off her questions. “How do you know about the cemetery, anyway?”

“Oh...well, it’s a family thing. Whichever one of us is at Hogwarts takes care of it.”

“But how did your family find it?”

Pansy stopped. They were at the edge of the forest. Maybe it was just the night, but the forest seemed even more foreboding than normal.

“You’ll need a costume too. Hold still.”

“What for?” he asked, flinching on instinct as Pansy waved her wand over him, conjuring. The thought occurred to him that this got me some bizarre plan. Good thing Hagrid was so close.

“I already told you. I don’t want to get snatched by any Fae that might be lurking about.”

“But you don’t really believe that, do you? It’s all for a laugh, isn’t it?” He said, a bit of laughter rising up in his voice. He’d heard the stories about fairies growing up, but he’d seen actual fairies before and they were nothing like the stories people told about them kidnapping people.”

“I don’t joke a lot about tonight. Harry. And yes, yes I do. It’s happened before to people who weren’t careful and I really don’t want to walk into that forest with you and then I have to explain where you went. There.”

She conjured up a mirror and held it up for him to see. She had disguised him in much the same way as she was, complete with a great horned mask.

“And this will scare away...anything we might run into?”

“Most things, but keep your wand ready.”

“Right.” He hadn’t needed to be told that one. “Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t eat or drink anything you see tonight, unless one of us brought it. Even it looks natural.”

She looked up at him.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

Did she seem nervous? Hadn’t she been doing this for years?

Harry swallowed and nodded.

They were several yards into the Forest before Pansy spoke again.

“Have you heard of the Sacred 28?”

“The what?” Harry asked.

“The Sacred 28. Have you heard of them?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“It’s what they call the old Pureblood families.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t keen on getting into a discussion of pureblood politics with the girl.

“Look, I didn’t name them. That’s just what they call them. Although I think there’s fewer of them now.”

“And so you’re family is that? One of the ‘sacred’ ones?” He glanced at her and she looked away.

“Yes. Well, my father’s side, anyway.”

That took Harry for a shock. It wasn’t that he thought all Slytherin’s were purebloods. Voldemort couldn’t have been the only one, after all. But it hadn’t occurred to him that she wasn’t. She was, after all, Malfoy’s girlfriend.

“So, you’re not…?” he started, before trailing off, realizing halfway through that one, it didn’t matter anyway and, two, it probably wasn’t the most polite question to ask.

“Oh, I am. But my mother wasn’t.”

“Oh. I just thought-”

“You thought that because I was with Draco, I must be just like him?”

“Well,” Harry admitted, “yeah.”

Pansy chuckled.

“Honestly, I think you have more in common with Draco than I do. Really,” she said at his look. “And the Malfoys are fanatics, but they’re not into inbreeding like the Blacks were. And it helps that my mother’s from a wealthy family.”

Pansy giggled.

“What?” Harry asked.

“My mother was a Bott. We’re actually richer than he is. He absolutely _hated_ it when I brought it up.”

Harry grinned at that despite himself, surprised at how pleased he was to have a private joke at Malfoy’s expenses, even if it was with her.

“But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, well. It’s just that we’re quite an old family.”

And finally Harry understood. They weren’t just going to tend to just tend to any old cemetery.

“You’re family’s there? Aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

Harry didn’t ask anymore questions as she led him on a winding but well-worn path through the forest. With the treetops darkening the already cloudy sky, the only real light they had was from the tip of Pansy’s wand.

Harry kept his own wand out. Every so often, a noise would startled them and Pansy would jump, and Harry would have to turn back and forth to satisfy her that they were safe. As they walked, Pansy had asked him if he had ever been in the Forest, but while he had told her yes, he had avoided the question when she’d asked if he’d seen anything dangerous. She was skittish enough as it was.

They came at last to where Pansy had been leading them, a small cemetery cordoned off by a rusted cast iron fence. She down her bag and basket, before turning to him.

“You don’t have to help me,” she said. “Not if you don’t want to. But you have to promise me that you won’t say anything until I’m done. Not a word. Not even a whisper. Not until we leave the gates again. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded. “But why?”

“It’s part of the ritual. I work in silence and listen to what my ancestors have to say.”

“You mean like ghosts?” Harry asked. He’d never heard of a ghost that only appeared once a year, but he knew ghosts could travel.

Pansy smiled and it was a different sort of smile than one that he’d ever seen on her before. Like a sad smile, but a happy sort of sad.

“Nothing like that. They speak to me. I don’t hear them,” she said quickly. “Not really. But I understand what they’re trying to tell me. At least I think I do.

“So do you promise? Not a word.”

“I promise.”

Pansy had said he didn’t have to, but he decided to help anyway. Anything to get out of there quicker.

The girl was, to his surprise, accomplished at wordless magic. Apparently not trusting herself, she cast a silencing charm on herself before she crossed the threshold. She offered, by nodding at him, if he wanted her to do the same, but Harry shook his head. If any of the acromantula decided to pop in for a visit, he wanted to be ready to fight back.

Fang seemed content to sniff around the fence, so Harry let him explore and stretch his legs, joining Pansy in the cemetery.

Pansy started by clearing the weeds, walking between the headstones and careful not to step on the graves. With every clump disintegrated into dust, more and more gnomes, angry that their homes were being destroyed, shouted and chased after the girl.

Harry rushed to grab them before they bit her, grabbing them and swinging them around before throwing them deep into the forest. Sometimes there were two many of them for him to grab and he would have to kick them away from Pansy. But, in the end, the graveyard was clear of both pests.

Harry watched Pansy to see what to do next. She reached over the gate, not, Harry noticed, stepping over the threshold to grab her bag. She opened it up and produced a rag, damped and soapy by magic.

Harry tapped on her shoulder and tried, awkwardly, to ask if she had another one. Nodding, she waved her wand over it, creating a second one for him to take. One-by-one, they cleaned the grave stones.

Pansy hadn’t been lying. The cemetery was positively ancient. The first one he cleaned was from the year 1650 and they only got older from there. He recognized most of the names etched upon them, either from his textbooks or his classmates or often both. Many Parkinsons, of course, but also Blacks and Burkes, Lestranges and Longbottoms, Prewetts and even a Potter.

Harry found himself reading the headstones as he scrubbed them down, seeing the words their families had left behind for them and the carvings etched them. And he almost got a sense of what Pansy had been trying to tell. He couldn’t hear their voices, not really- though he did get the occasional feeling of gratitude when scrubbed away a particularly caked on bit of dirt. No, he couldn’t hear them, but he began to feel almost as if he knew them.

He stood when he was done and saw Pansy back over at her bag, this time pulling out a seemingly endless array of flowers. He walked over again, thinking he’d help her pass them out. But she motioned for him to stay put. This was, he thought, something she wanted to do alone.

And so he stood back and watched. Pansy visited each of the graves in turn, standing over them with her eyes closed. Sometimes she cock her head, as if she were thinking or as if she really could hear them. Sometimes she’d stop and smile, particularly over the Parkinson and Bott graves, but sometimes she’d barely take the time to place a flower on the grave before moving on to the next one.

So used to the sneers or smirks he normally associated with her, it might have been the strangest thing of the night so far, seeing her so serene.

He was still watching her when she went to one grave and stopped short. Looking up and back at him, she motioned with her head for him to come over.

When he got up next to her, he understood why she’d called him over.

Taran Potter. Born January 30, 1624. Died May 17, 1707.

Harry had no idea who he was. His family, beyond his mum and dad, were something he hadn’t really thought about since first coming to Hogwarts and he’d gotten an answer-a bit-of his real history.

But Pansy seemed to think he must be related to the person buried there and if anyone knew it would be her. It would be something to ask about later, at any rate.

Silently, Pansy pressed a flower-a white lily- into his hand, before moving on to the next grave.

Harry stood over the grave. Pansy hadn’t told him what to do, other than not to speak, so he tried to mimic her. He closed his eyes and listened.

Nothing.

Of course, he didn’t have the same connection to the graves as she did. How long had she said she’d been doing this? Since she was 11? She probably knew all the people buried there.

So instead, he tried to think positive thoughts at his ancestor. What did someone say to a dead person they’d never met and you didn’t even know knew you were there.

 _I...er...I hope you’re at peace. I wish we could talk_.

All at once, he felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Something he couldn’t place. Gratitude? Happiness. It was definitely something and it was a little bit unnerving.

Harry went back over to the fence and waited for Pansy to be done. When each grave had been attended to, she took him by the arm and led him out of the cemetery.

“Thank you,” she whispered, after she unsilenced herself.

“Anytime,” he whispered back, surprised that he meant. “What now?”

“We’re going to have a dumb supper. We can talk, but we have to be quiet.”

Harry nodded and she led him to a clearing of just off the path. Given that the Parkinsons had been doing this for years, Harry wondered if they made it.

Harry thought they’d be sitting on the ground like a picnic, but Pansy conjured a table and three chairs for them. She set out a place for three people, finishing by lighting a candle for the center.

“Sit down,” she said, still whispering.

“Another tradition?” he asked, glancing at the empty third seat as Pansy served the food, starting with the extra plate. “Serving them in honor?”

“Sometimes.” She looked around. “Don’t be surprised if someone comes to visit. It’s before. Once or twice.”

She gave him a wink as she grinned at him. “And, yes, this time I do mean like a ghost.”

Dinner was simple. Egg sandwiches and crisps, with a pitcher of iced tea. Fang begged, making himself look pathetic until Pansy relented and tossed him a sandwich, which he had inhaled in about three seconds flat.

“They don’t remember, do you?” Pansy said, offering him some more crisps.

“Hmm,” Harry said through a biteful of sandwich.

“This isn’t just the day Voldemort died. It’s the day….sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Harry swallowed.

“No. It’s ok. It’s… Thanks. I’m glad someone remembered.”

“‘History remembers the battle, but forgets the blood.’ That’s about the only thing I ever learned from Binns.

“I guess that’s why I do it, you know?” She scowled, not at Harry, but at the forest general. “So I know that someone remembers them.”

“You said you listen? I didn’t hear anything. When I...you know.”

Pansy nodded. “I didn’t either the first time. If father hadn’t told me about it, I would have thought it was Scarlett making things up for a joke. And I don’t even really hear them now. I just...I get a sense for things. Honestly, it might all be in my head. But it’s calming. And sometimes I talk about my problems with them. Or think them at them, anyway.”

“Does it help?”

Pansy smiled. “It does. I think they like feeling connected to the world. I know I would.”

She looked around.

“If you have anything you want to say, feel free to. Supposedly they like hearing stories.”

“You start,” Harry said. He’d long gotten past the point of being suspicious of her. But he liked hearing her talk.

She told him about the first time there, how scared she’d been when her sister had told her the same things she’d told him. About how the first time she’d seen a ghost and how sometimes dancing fairy lights in the distance why try to lure her away to some unknown fate.

She never said it directly, dancing around the subject, he guessed, because it was him with her, but he got the impression that Malfoy had always been the one to come with her. With him arrested, that wasn’t possible anymore. But Harry had no doubt that she would gone in alone if she hadn’t run into him.

They were just about finished when they saw it. A figure, greyish-almost blue-came floating over the hill behind the cemetery. Pansy kept her face even, but Harry could see how she tensed and if he hadn’t, the way she grabbed and squeezed his hand would have told him.

“Do you know him?” Harry whispered.

Pansy shook her head, ever so slightly. Harry gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“It’ll be alright.”

They stood up quickly as the ghost got closer. Pansy let Harry’s hand drop to give the ghost curtsy. Following suit, Harry bowed at the hip.

“Good evening,” Pansy said. “Please won’t join us for supper.”

“Thank you, fair maiden. Thank you, good sir.”

They sat.

“Please, won’t you tell us your name?”

“Forgive me,” the spirit. “My name is Taran Potter.”

“Potter, you say?” Pansy’s eyes darted and met his own. “My name is Pansy Parkinson. And my escort here is Harry Potter.”

The ghost, who had been stiff and formal up till then, became more animated.

“Another Potter? My word, I never thought I’d meet another one. Pray, kin, tell me what news there is of our noble house?”

“Er…” Harry shared another look with Pansy.

“Come now, boy,” Taran said. “I beg of you, please tell me.”

“The Potters are now the most famous wizarding family in all of Britain,” Pansy cut it, answering for him. “My escort is a vanquisher of a great dark lord and his parents are honored as heroes.”

Pansy continued on and Harry was amazed how she could turn “His parents were murdered and Harry is the only potter left” sound like an uplifting, triumphant tale. Merlin help Britain, Harry thought, should Pansy Parkinson ever decide to enter politics.

Taran didn’t seem to notice that Harry hadn’t answered and that Pansy had been answering all the questions. Maybe he thought Harry was being polite or maybe that was normal in his time.

Their guest hovered around the food, not going through the motions of eating, but Harry remembered how the ghosts at Nick's party said that he could almost taste it.

“I should take my leave now,” Taran said, as they polished off the last of the food. “And you should be getting back to the castle. It’s not safe to tarry here.”

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Pansy promised. “But please, sir. Have you any messages for us?”

“No,” The ghost said, looking them over. “Not this year. Next year, I think. Yes, next year.

“Thank you both,” Taran said, standing-floating-up. “I must take my leave of you now. I wish you well, fair maiden. Kin, I am glad to hear the good news of our family. I hope to see you again. Next year.”

They waited until Taran was gone and far out of earshot before they spoke again.

“Well…” Harry said. But unable to think of a way to finish that sentence, just said, “Well…”

“Yeah,” Pansy agreed.

“Do you know him?” Harry asked, again. She had had to introduce them, but she’d been doing this for ages and Binns was living proof-so to speak- that ghosts could be forgetful.

“No,” Pansy said, shaking her head. “I think Scarlett-my sister-might have met him once. She told me about a ghost that showed up sometimes.”

Harry wondered who’d gone with her after. Or if she’d gone alone, but decided not to ask.

“Kind of an odd coincidence of him showing tonight.”

Pansy looked at him sharply. “It wasn’t a coincidence, Harry. It’s Samhain. It’s the one night a year our ancestors can come and visit. I doubt he would have visited at all if you hadn’t come with me.”

As interesting as their encounter with Taran had been, he wouldn’t have been his first choice of visitor. Or even his twenty-first. It was something he thought she’d understand.

They walked quickly, neither of them saying it, but both eager to get away from there.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Pansy said once they were safely outside Forest.

“It was nothing,” he said.

“No, really.” She stopped him from continuing on their way down the lane. He turned and Pansy, having to step up on her tiptoes, pressed her lips into a soft kiss on his cheek.

“The Forest gives me the creeps and I couldn’t find anyone to go with me this year.”

“Right… Well, I should get to Fang back to Hagrid.”

“Do you have to?” she asked. “I was thinking we could go to Hogsmeade. I did tell you I wanted to make that party.”

“And you want me to come with you?”

“Why not?” She put her hands on her hips. “What, you can come to the creepy old graveyard in the Forbidden Forest, but you can’t come to Hogsmeade?”

Harry started to object on instinct, when he saw that Pansy was teasing him.

“What about Fang?” he asked. He didn’t want to break his promise to Hagrid and not come in for a visit, and he doubted the Pansy was going to come in with him.

“So bring him with us,” she said, give Fang a scratch behind the ear. “I don’t mind and I doubt he’d mind either. Would you, you good boy? No, you wouldn’t! No, you wouldn’t”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked when she saw.

“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head.

“What? I don’t hate everything. Just Gryffindors. Present company excluded. For the moment.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and Harry rolled his eyes.

“So will you come?” she asked.

“Do you really want me to?”

“Would I ask you if I didn’t?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You’re usually up to something.”

Pansy sighed. “Look, don’t think so much about it. Let’s just have a good time. Consider it my way of saying thank you from being with me in the forest. And my way of trying to make up for being a bit of bitch in the past.”

Harry snorted. And why not? After all, he’d gone this far with her and by now, he wanted to see what would happen. And beside, he still wasn’t ready to go back to the tower yet.

“Alright.

“Good! I’m looking forward to this. Just give me a moment.”

With a flick of her wand, Pansy made a hole in the ground and put her bag and basket in it.

“I don’t fancy lugging those around all night,” she explained as she tossed her furs and mask there as well. “I’ll come back for them later.”

After throwing Harry’s costume in with it and covering it all up with a conjured boulder, she took his arm, the one that wasn’t devoted to holding onto Fang’s leash and they walked down the lane.

“You should feel honored, anyway,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Of course. After all, girls like me don’t spend their Samhain’s with just anyone.”

Harry groaned. “You’re full of it.”

“Maybe.”

They walked in silence until they found themselves at the fork that would take them down to Hogsmeade.

“Wait!” Pansy said. “Do you see that?”

Harry followed his gaze to the point where she was looking. Off in the distance, smoke was rising from where the bonfire had been raging. Only a dim light crackling told them that there was still a little life left in the fire.

“We should stop by,” she said. “Do you mind?”

Harry shrugged. “If you want.”

A party had sprung up around the bonfire, to the surprise of no one. Leave a bunch of teenagers to their own devices for long enough and it was going to happen. Every variety of fizzy drink and butterbeer and even some things stronger had been assembled, blankets and beach towels were laid out, and someone had even brought a wireless that was currently playing dance music.

“Ooh!” Pansy cooed. “Walnuts!”

She let go of Harry’s arm to go get some, leaving Harry alone to watch the revelry.

“Harry!” a familiar voice called. “I didn’t think I’d see you. Thought you’d gone back to the castle.”

Fred clapped Harry on the back and Harry smiled. It had been ages since he’d seen him.

“What are you doing back,” he asked. “And where’s George?”

He couldn’t remember ever seeing them apart. George looked around.

“Oh he’s around here somewhere. Probably taking bets on the games.”

“Games?”

Fred shrugged. “It’s a thing. You know us teens. Put up a bonfire and they start getting stupid. Honestly, I think McGonagall asked us here as much to help keep an eye on things as she did for the fireworks.”

The Weasley Twins’ fireworks were legendary and he was surprised that he hadn’t heard they were coming.

“So how have you been spending your Halloween?” Fred asked.

“Hey, Harry!” Pansy called. “Oh.”

Harry looked over and saw her as she stepped back.

“Ah,” Fred said. He looked Pansy over, apparently not recognizing her. “Not bad, mate. So you’ve been with her all night?”

“It’s not like that,” Harry objected.

“Whatever you say. Look, I’ll see you around. Just let me know if you take part in the wrestling tournament. You know I love you, but I’ve got to bet against you.”

He grinned before waving goodbye.

Pansy joined him.

“You don’t have to be scared of my friends, you know?” he said.

“Well, I haven’t been very nice over the years. I’m trying to change that, but I know how to hold a grudge. I guess I just expect others to do the same.”

Harry thought about that. “Well, maybe. But just throw in a few jokes at Malfoy and I think they’ll forgive you.”

Other than being generally unpleasant, she really hadn’t done much to them over the years.

Pansy looked away when Harry brought up Malfoy.

“Sorry,” Harry said. He should have known it would have been a sore subject.

Pansy just nodded.

“Do you ever hear from him?” he asked slowly.

“We write,” Pansy said with a sigh. “ He keeps telling me how he’ll get out of there soon, but…

“I got walnuts,” she said suddenly and Harry knew that particular line of conversation was over.

Taking him by the hand, she dragged him to dying fire.

“You name the walnuts, you see? One after yourself and the other after someone else. Someone you’re interested in. Then you throw them into the fire and what happens to them tells you what’s going to happen between you.”

Pansy held up her walnuts and Harry noticed that there were three of them.

“You’re trying to make a choice, then?”

“Mm hmm,” Pansy said with a nod.

She opened her mouth to name the walnuts, but seemed to think better of it. Giving Harry a quick side glance, she held her hand up and whispered to the walnut. Her voice was so low that he could hear what she said.

She threw one into the center of the fire, before repeating the process with the other two walnuts, which she threw to either side of the first.

They watched as the all three caught fire. The second one she threw burned quickly, before jumping away from the one in the center and dying. But the other two jumped together and we’re still burning when Pansy looked up and their eyes met.

“Interesting… Well, go on. It’s your turn.”

She offered him two walnuts. Harry held them up and, grinning, popped them into his mouth.

“Divination is a daft subject.”

Managing to giggle and pout at the same time, she whined, “You’re no fun.”

“Maybe so. So where next? Hogsmeade?”

“Unless you were going to wrestle someone for my amusement.”

Harry snorted. “I didn’t think you’d go in for that sort of thing.”

“Well, it’s ridiculous and barbaric, but…” she smiled dreamily at something over Harry’s shoulder, “there is something to say for the view.”

Harry looked behind him. A number of the boys were pulling off their shirts.

“Well, if you’re not going to strip down for me…”

Pansy grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down towards the lane.

They were only about halfway there when Harry heard a noise off in the distance. At first, he thought it was then wind and then he thought it was the sounds of the bonfire carried down from the wind. But as it got louder, he could tell it was getting closer.

“Get down!”

Pansy pulled him to the ground with him. Whining as he crouched, even Fang was scared. A coward, just like Hagrid always said.

“What’s wrong.”

She pointed to the sky. Above a ghostly host flew above them. All manor of things charged across the sky. Everything from knights on horseback to World War I biplanes.

“That’s the Wild Hunt,” she whispered. “The host of the dead, led by Wotan or King Arthur. Nobody knows for sure. They’ll snatch up any one they catch on the road. You’d be forced to hunt forever. If we stay still enough, they might leave us alone.

It seemed like ages for the Wild Hunt to pass by them over head. Even after they’d passed, they stayed huddled up together on the ground until they were sure they wouldn’t turn around.

“I think they’re gone,” Harry said. He stood up and helped her to her feet. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, taking a few deep breaths. “I’ve just never actually seen them before.”

She looked up at him curiously. “It’s been quite a strange night thanks to you, Harry Potter.”

“Me?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t believe in coincidence. Not tonight.”

“You don’t want to call it one, do you? A night, that is.”

“Not even a little.”

They stared into each other’s eyes. She was determined to see it through to the end. If he, Harry thought, would have done well in Slytherin, then Pansy wouldn’t have made a bad Gryffindor.

“Let’s keep going then.”

  
  


Hogsmeade was alive when they arrived with a manic, wild energy that Harry had never seen in the quaint town before.

“Where is this party, anyway?” he asked, realizing he still didn’t know.

“I don’t know. It changes every year. Under the Fideilus, you know. Part of the fun is finding it. One year, I heard it was even at the Shrieking Shack.”

Harry doubted that very much. He was certain that people broke into all the time, but any large amount of people would have found the secret passage back to the grounds. And besides, it really wasn’t that big.

“Don’t worry,” she said, taking his hand. “We’ll find it.”

It wasn’t easy, getting to the Shrieking Shack, where Pansy was sure the first clue would be hidden. Fang, who was clearly a well-loved and well-fed dog, had the uncanny ability to make himself look like he was skin and bone whenever someone passed them by with something he wanted to eat. And there were a lot of people in town that evening. Harry had to keep pulling him away to keep him from conning children out of their well-earned candy, all the while getting dirty looks and mutters about how he was starving the poor thing.

When they had finally fought their way to the Shack, they found their way to the gate blocked by a crowd of people, no doubt looking for the same thing they were.

“Well, now see,” Pansy said. “It’s a good thing we didn’t return Fang yet. I’ll bet he can help us get through.”

Still with Harry’s hand in her’s, Pansy pulled them forward. True to her word, Fang’s excited barks as they approached part of a way for them.

On the gate was carved a rune. One he didn’t recognize. The most he could say was that it wasn’t a wizarding rune. He was certain he would have remembered it from all the times Hermione had had him quiz her. No, instead it looked like a block “M”. Or a three in Roman numerals without the bottom line.

“Where’s a bloody Ravenclaw when you need them?” somebody in the crowd moaned.

“Got it!” Pansy said cheerfully. Waving cheekily at them as she led Harry away, she said, “Later, boys. See you at the party! If you get there.”

Harry would have expected them to follow them, if for no other reason than to get the next clue. Maybe they wanted to prove that they could do it on their own or maybe there was some magic to the party. But for whatever reason, Pansy, Harry and Fang were left to go one their way.

“What was that?” Harry asked.

“What? Oh, the clue? It was an ogham for the letter T.”

“Right,” he said. “And that means…?”

“Tea. We’re going to Madam Puddifoot’s.”

“Oh joy,” Harry grumbled. Ever the haunt of happy couples, Harry had only been to the tea shop the once- on his first, last and failed date with Cho Chang. He would have been perfectly happy not to set foot in there ever again.

“Oh, why so glum, chum?” Pansy teased.

“Just not my favorite place, is it?”

“Oh, right,” Pansy said. “I remember the gossip about that. Well, don’t worry. I promise you I won’t bring up Draco if you promise not to ditch me for some other girl.”

Harry snorted. “Deal.”

There was a line when they got to the tea shop. Pansy sighed.

“Well, I don’t think we’re going to be able to jump the line here.” She huffed. “I hated waiting.”

“We’ll just have to find a way to pass the time. Tell me about this party, anyway. You’ve been dying to get their all night-

“Bad choice of words...”

“What’s so good about it?”

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected her answer to be. Expensive food and wealthy guests, probably. But, to his surprise, Pansy just shrugged.

“Nothing really. It’s just an excuse to dance and meet people. And I guess a way to blow off steam after the graveyard. It’s as much a tradition for me as anything. But I’ll show you a good time,” she promised with a wink.

When they finally got to the front of the line, Madam Puddifoot herself was there to greet them. A little plump and and tinged pink in the cheeks, she reminded Harry a bit of a cross between Molly Weasley and Hestia Jones.

“Ooh,” she cooed when she saw them. “So good to see such a lovely couple.”

Only then did Harry realize that they were still holding hands. Merlin, they’d been hand in hand for ages. Ever since they got to town. And when had she laced their fingers together?

He didn’t have time to ponder the meaning of it though.

“What are you here for? Just some butterbeer. Or are you up for a little tea leaf reading.”

There was something significant about the way she said. Something that Pansy picked on, apparently.

“We’re definitely here for the reading. Aren’t we, love?”

Pansy batted her eyes at him. Fine. He could play along.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you want.”

Unlacing their fingers, he put his arm around her waist. Pansy bumped him with her hip and the two of them followed Madam Puddifoot into the shop, leaving Fang behind to wait.

She took past the main room and into the back. The last time he was there, he and Cho had been sat at a private table, but they were taken to a large round table with other people already seated there. There were only three seats left. One at the far end and two next each for him and Pansy.

“If she finds a grim in my tea leaves,” he whispered as they sat down next to each other, “I’m leaving.”

“Shh!” she hissed. Madam Puddifoot was sitting down in the final chair.

Madam Puddifoot waved her wand and a row of tea cups, saucers and spoons flew from somewhere and landed in front of the guest, on for each of them.

Passing around the pot, Madam Puddifoot explained, “Now this is a very important tea, my dears. Fortune tellers use it to open their inner eyes, so mind that you don’t drink too much of it or you lose yourself entirely in a journey to the center of your mind.”

Harry would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t sure Madam Puddifoot wouldn’t see. If he got him and Pansy thrown out, after all they’d gone through, she would probably hex his bits off. And, if he was honest with himself, after their time they’d spent together...he wanted to take it all the way.

“What’s in it?” asked freckled blonde girl, a fifth year Ravenclaw Harry didn’t recognize.

“Lots of things, my dear,” Madam Puddifoot said, “Lots of things. Kava tincture. Meadowsweet. Orange peel.”

She chuckled to herself at that last bit, as if it was some private joke of her own. “That’s for taste. Of course the most important ingredient is the mugwort. Such a magical plant.

“But you mustn’t attempt this potion on your own,” she added quickly . “It’s quite dangerous if it isn’t brewed properly. Ask your potion master for help.”

That time Harry couldn’t help himself, letting out a loud snort before he could stop himself. Pasny shot him a look and he would probably get an earful of it for that from her for that one later.

But the others agreed with him, either giggling or nodding. Even Madam Puddifoot got in on it.

“Right,” she grumbled. “Professor Sniv- Snape.”

Harry had to bite his cheeks to stop himself from laughing out loud. He’d have to remember to tell Lupin about this later.

“Very well,” the witch said. “I’ll teach you, if you’d like. But not tonight. Tonight is for the spiritual world.”

When they all had a cup, Madam had them drink it together. At first, Harry felt nothing. It tasted like any other tea. Then it crept up slowly on him, the haze of the potion washing over him like a tide.

It was as if Harry had left his body. He could even see himself sitting in the chair in the darkened room, sipping tea as if nothing had happened.

Harry should be freaking out, he knew, but he couldn’t remember feeling so calm in his life. He looked around. The spirits of some of the others were standing around, watching themselves just like he was. None of them seemed to notice. But not Pansy.

 _Don’t drink too much._ The words echoed in his mind. Well….he didn’t think there was much chance of him forgetting how to get back to the tea shop. And since watching himself was getting boring, he decided to go for a walk.

Floating off the floor, Harry passed through the wall like a ghost and headed for the door. He had no conscious idea of where he was going, but he knew he had to be somewhere. All he could do was follow where he was compelled to.

It was an odd experience, being a ghost. Back in his second year, when he’d gone to Sir Nicholas’ deathday party, one of the guests had told him and Ron that he could _almost_ taste the rotten food that was on display for them. No he understood. As he passed by people with butterbeer or steaming cauldron cakes or whatever, he could almost smell them. It was like a memory. The candied apples were especially strong for him.

So caught up in where he was going, he hadn’t seen how far he’d gone. For the matter, where _was_ he going? And where had he come from? It all seemed so distant, so unimportant.

“Harry!” a voice called to him from far away, carried on the cool breeze. That’s right. He used to be called Harry.

“Harry,” the voice called again. “Harry, you’ve got to wake up.”

“Is he alright. Dear?” another, older voice called.

“I don’t know.” The voice was frantic. “He won’t wake up!”

 _Pansy_ , he thought.

Something pulled at him from behind his belly button and he zoomed back through the town. With the unnerving sensation not unlike what happened on the edge of sleep when you seemed to fall back into your bed, Harry returned to his body.

He opened his eyes to Madam Puddifoot shaking him frantically and Pansy looking panicked and, if possible, even more pale.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Pansy pushed straight past Madam Puddifoot and threw her arms around him.

“I’m fine,” he repeated with a chuckle, patting her on the back. He joked, trying to cheer her up, “I just know what it feels like to be dead now. Might skip that next year, it’s all the same to you.”

“That’s not funny,” she murmured, squeezing him.

Madam Puddifoot was extremely apologetic, furthered by Pansy ranting at her, despite Harry trying to calm her down. They left with more discounts than Harry could count, pressed into his hands when Pansy didn’t take them on principal. Honestly, he doubted he’d ever have to pay at the shop again, should he ever choose to go to the wretched place again.

“So what happened,” Pansy asked.

“I was being a prat,” he admitted. “I left my body, but I got bored watching myself, so I went for a walk.”

Pansy stopped, halting him with her. She had had a death grip on his arm from the moment they’d left the shop, possibly worried that he was going to leave his body again and only her touch could save him.

“You what?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Pansy muttered some unkind words that Harry guessed her parents wouldn’t have approved of if they were there to hear them.

They walked for a little while longer, clearing their heads of the potion, before Pansy spoke again.

“So what was it like? Being dead, that is.”

“It was weird. I wasn’t a ghost, I don’t think. Not really. The real problem is that I was forgetting who I was. I think you got me just in time.” The words made Pansy shutter.

“I was aware of things, but a lot of things were…” he continued, trailing off. “I don’t really know how to put it into words. Distant, I guess. It was like having a word you can’t remember on the tip of your tongue. I knew I should be able to smell things. But I couldn’t.”

“What happened to you?” he asked, suddenly remembering that he didn’t see her spirit among the others.

“I had a vision.”

“What did you see?”

Pansy sighed.

“It was a clue, I’m sure. But I don’t understand it. I was in a garden. I saw…” she trailed off, glancing up at him.

“What?”

“I was in a garden. I saw a couple, a boy and girl. I didn’t like it.” Finally letting go of his arm, her hands clenched. “I wanted to stop it.”

She was right. It didn’t make sense.

“Did anything stand out to you?” she asked.

“Not really. The most I got is that I could almost smell fruit when I was close enough.

“Garden… Fruit… Garden… Fruit…” Pansy’s eyes widened. “I’ve got it.”

She ran off, leaving Harry to catch up with her.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jogging to keep up with her. She could run when she wanted to.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked. “I was in a garden. You almost smelled fruit.”

He didn’t so much as see her eye roll as felt in his heart when he still didn’t get it.

“Eden. We need to find an apple. We’re going to the orchard!”

The orchard was bumped up against the Forbidden Forest. It might even technically be part of it. But whatever it was, they weren’t the only ones there. A crowd, much smaller than the one they’d faced at the Shrieking Shack, but still a considerable number.

Just as before, Pansy got them the front with the help of Fang. As they examined the clue, Harry thought he couldn’t remember seeing anything that looked less Halloween-y. On a table, there was a wedding cake. Among various items and relics adorning the table, on either side of the cake, was an ornate picture frame. The one labeled The Bride was simply a mirror. The one labeled The Groom was a silhouette with a question mark etched on it.

“Ugh,” Pansy groaned.

“What?”

“I hate it when the clues are like this. The meaning is obvious, but it could mean different things. We’ll have to check a lot of places.”

They left as soon as they came, leaving the crowd behind to ponder the location of the next clue.

“It’s more divination,” Pansy explained.

“How did you get that from a wedding cake?”

“I didn’t. I got it from the photos. I’m the bride, but I don’t know who the groom is. What do most people use divination for?”

“What’s going to happen in the future?”

“Well, yeah. Usually to find out who to date. At least for girls. You would not believe the number of stories I could tell you. So many sleepovers.”

“So we need to find out who you’re going to marry?”

“We need to look for the clue at a place where you can do that sort of divination.”

“So how do you do it?” Harry asked, remembering his Divination class, trying and failing to think of what he learned that they could do here.

“There’s a lot of ways, that’s my point. Here’s let’s sit down and think it over.”

They sat down on a park bench, watching the crowd of people pass by.

“It’s not any of the typical ones. Those are done at Madam Puddifoots and they wouldn’t send us to the same place twice. And it can’t be an apple peel one again. Same reason. There are any number of pieces to climb, but how would we pick the right one. And if the house is still under the Fidelius, we won’t be able to see it anyway.”

Harry let Pansy ramble on. She wasn’t talking to him, not really. She was just thinking out loud.

“We could try baking, but that would take awhile. The clues are usually pretty quick, so don’t have to waste too much time if you’re clever.”

She stood up.

“You’ve figured it out?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I’ve narrowed it down and I figure it’s better to start looking than wasting all night mulling it over.”

What time was it anyway? With everything that had happened, Harry had lost track of time. It must be late though. Or rather, early. It had already been after dark when McGonagall had sent him out to place the torch. The night had taken quite the turn.

“So where are we going?”

“My best guess is that it’s in a kale farm. You’re supposed to pull it at midnight and if you hang it outside your door with your nightgown, it will give you clues about your true love.”

Harry pushed the thoughts of seeing Pansy Parkinson in her nightie as she led him past the shops and to the farmland.

“I assume one of these farms will have kale.”

“One of them will. A town like this?”

Harry followed Pansy, not exactly sure what kale looked like. But fortunately Pansy did, well enough that she could spot from a distance, behind a fence and in the dark. It looked promising, with the signs of others having climbed over before them clear in the dirt.

“Help me over,” she whispered. Giving her a leg up, Pansy scrambled up and over the fence.

She dashed over to the field of kale and pulled out a stalk. Harry watched as Pansy, still kneeling down in the field, cracked the stem of the kale before punching the air. Whatever the next clue was, she’d found it.

Pansy ran back across the field, scrambling back across all on her own and with more grace than he would have credited her for.

“Impressive,” he said.

“Thanks,” Pansy said, grinning. “6 years of ballet. Nice to know I have lost everything.”

“So you didn’t need my help getting up.”

“Not really, no.”

Harry scoffed. “Then why did you ask.”

“Because I wanted you to help me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, beginning to understand the girl, just a little bit. It was game to her, that night, him, most things probably. And he found that he didn’t mind playing it with her.

“So you found the clue?” He hoped it was an easy one. He didn’t want to spend too much time on the hunt.

“Better!” Pansy said, brightly.

She showed him the stalk of kale. Rolled up inside it was an envelope made of black paper.

“Is that it, then?”

“It’s the invitation!”

Carefully pulling the envelope out of the vegetable, Pansy slipped the kale into her purse. With it safely stowed away, all caution left her and she tore into the envelope. But when Harry looked over her shoulder, there was nothing written on it. Nothing save for a circle and a crescent moon at the top of the page.

“I thought you said this was the invitation?”

“It is. It looks the same as all the other ones. I’ve never seen one with a clue before.”

“Well, it has something to do with the moon, obviously.”

Taking the paper from Pansy’s hand, Harry held it up to the night sky. Maybe, he thought as he positioned it, that it was written with special ink. Something that could be read by moonlight. The page stayed blank.

“Moon ink doesn’t normally work like that,” Pansy said. “Not a bad thought, though.”

She took the paper back, examining it closely. “Normally, only works on a certain day. And sometimes even on a certain time of day on a specific day. Like on Durin’s Day.”

“You don’t think we missed it, do you?”

Pansy shook her head. “We can’t have. They would have told us there was a time limit. The clues are tricky and sometimes they’re risky. But they’re always fair.”

“Well then, what is it?”

“It’s a map. It’s got to be. It’s the only thing I can think of that makes sense.”

Harry took the map back.

“So we’re looking for a circle? A building?” He couldn’t think of any building that was a circle, but there was a lot more to Hogsmeade than the part he’d seen. “Maybe a well?”

“Maybe…” Pansy snapped her fingers suddenly. “No. The fountain. In the center of town.”

It made as much sense as anything, so when Pansy ran off back towards the main part of the village, Harry followed her.

They had to dodge the crowds of people still in the streets and more than once, Harry just missed running into someone coming around a corner, but they made it to the fountain. They weren’t alone.

“Hold up,” Harry said.

“What?”

Harry pointed to the fountain at the village center where two children, a boy and girl, were sitting and crying.

“Oh,” Pansy said. “Yeah, we’d better go see about that.”

They were dressed in costume, the two of them. A boy and a girl. Pants walked up beside them and sat down beside them.

“Hey, what’s wrong.”

“We were collecting pennies for the Guy, see?” the boy said, the girl-his sister, Harry guessed-still crying. “We got a lot. But we came to this one house and they tried to hex us when we knocked on the door. They said they’d had enough of freeloaders and a lot of other nasty things.”

Pansy’s eyes flashed.

“And they wouldn’t give you anything,” the two children shook their heads. “Well, that’s no good.”

Hands on her hips, she turned to Harry. "Sorry, Harry, but we’ve got to take care of this. Come on you two, show us the house.”

They followed the two back past the Shrieking Shack and to an out of the way house on a hill at the end of the street. It wasn’t so large that Harry would have called it a mansion, but it was clear whoever lived there, they were well off.

“ _Here_?” Pansy asked, incredulously.

“Here,” one of the boys said.

“Right. Stay out of sight, but not don’t go far. We’re going to need some help later.”

Once the boy and the girl were out of earshot, Pansy turned to him.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“About what?”

“We’re going to prank them. You’re the one who spends time with the Weasleys. Didn’t they teach you anything?”

“How to get in and out of the castle without being seen. That’s about it. And we’re really going to prank them?”

“It’s the principle of the thing. A rich house like this? Besides. It’s “trick or treat”. It’s the rules. They didn’t want to give out treats? They get a trick.”

Harry’s first instinct was to tell her no. To just buy the kids some candy and give them a few galleons. But the more he thought about it, the more he looked at the house that more and more reminded him of #4 Privet Dr., something changed inside of him.

So many Halloweens missed, locked up in his cupboard. So many times he had to watch Dudley eat England’s weight in candy and sweets. All the time he’d be called a freak and made to work for the Dursley’s. Well, he figured he was due a little trouble after everything he’d been through. And if these people were anything like the Dursleys...well, too bad for them.

“So what do you think?” She asked again.

She’d had it wrong. The Weasley Twins were funny and if they were going to do this right, and if they were going to do this right, they were going to have to think like muggle. They were going to have to unleash their inner Dudleys.

“I’ve got an idea, but we’re going to need some help.”

He caught the kids attention and waved them over.

“We’re going to get started for you, But I need you to get a few things. Do you know what tallow is? Animal fat, boiled,” he explained when they shook their heads. “We don’t need a whole lot. About a cup will do. And some matches.”

Of course, lighting a fire with his wand would do just as well, but it felt right going all out and doing it the muggle way.

“What do we need animal fat for?” Pansy whispered to him as the children ran away in search of the items.”

“It’s an old muggle trick. You’ll see. Come on.”

It was his turn to take her hand and he led her around the fence to the back of the house. Creeping along quietly and keeping down, he stopped her at the gate.

“Help me with the screws,” he said.

When Dudley and his gang were young, they only tested the limits of the community tolerance by limiting their destruction to the annoying rather than expensive. Of course, with magic they’d have to get a little bit more creative to get the same effect, but the message would be the same.

Between the two of them, they make short work of the gate, getting it off its hinges.

“But what are we going to do with it?” Pansy asked.

Harry looked around. There was a tree that would do just nicely for their purposes.

“How’s your sticking charm?”

“It’s not bad,” she said.

“Can you put on this then.”

She did and Harry carried it over to the tree. Swinging it as hard as he was able, he threw it up into the branches above. It stuck, far enough up that they were probably going to need a ladder to get it back down again.

“Brilliant!” Pansy gasped.

“Come on, let’s do the front one too!”

And so they did. And after relieving them of their other gate, they set about other mischief. Pansy charmed the fence with another sticking charm so that they’d be caught the next time they touched. Harry was probably the worst of him, he thought. Though he couldn’t bring himself to destroy their mailbox like he’d seen Dudley do, he was certainly willing to enchant it.

Harry and Pansy watched as it hopped away to Merlin knew where. Hopefully it would take them a while before they caught it, though hang was making a go for it too. Harry had to pull him back from chasing after it.

“There!” Pansy said, hitting it with one last sticking charm before it hopped too far away.

Laughing maniacally, the two of them could keep their footing and fell together. Next thing he knew, Pansy was pinned beneath him.

“Harry? You’re staring. Sickle for your thoughts.”

“You’re not a thing like I expected.”

“You’re not what I thought either.”

She reached, taking his cheek in her hand. Harry leaned in. This was after all, a night for taking risks.

“We did it, we did it!” The kids yelled, the boy carrying a cup of tallow.

Pansy, who’d been leaning in, slumped back and groaned.

“Lovely timing,” she grumbled.

Harry got up off her and helped her.

“Good job,” Pansy said, taking the tallow from them. “I can’t believe you found it.”

“It wasn’t hard,” the girl said.

“Still got that stalk of kale,” Harry asked.

Producing it from her purse, she handed it to Harry.

“Careful,” she said. “I’ll want the roots for tonight.”

“I just need a little bit.”

Breaking a bit off the top, he took his piece and handed the rest back to Pansy. He led them to the front door.

“This is going to be messy,” as he poured the fat into the stalk, with a finger on one end to cap it. “You’d better stand back.”

Inevitably, he’d spilled much more of it than he got in, but it didn’t matter. He trapped enough inside the kale to do the job.

“Match, please.”

Pansy struck a match and hastily passed it over to him. Harry was quite quick enough to keep he’s fingers from being burned, but he got the kale lit like a cigarette anyway. He pressed it up to the keyhole and blew.

“What’s that going to do?” Pansy asked.

“It’s going to smell bad, for one. And it’s going to be a job to clean out. Even with magic, I reckon. Let’s go.”

The four of them ran. And they didn’t stop running until the house was far out of sight. In their dash, Harry had let them through side streets and down alleys, so that even if they tried, they wouldn’t be able to follow them.

“ _Scourgify_ ,” Pansy said, pointed her wand at Harry’s hands, cleaning them for him.

“There. Now,” Pansy said to the kids. “We got your revenge, but I think you’ve earned some sweets. What do you say we take you down to Honeydukes?”

It would have been an understatement to say that they were in favor of that idea and so the four of them navigated their way back to the center of town.

“Will it even still be open?” Harry asked in a whisper.

“It should be. It usually is. But if it isn’t, we’ll think of something.

Harry had been worried for nothing. They rounded the last corner and saw the lights still on in the shop. It wasn’t too crowded either. With any luck, it shouldn’t take them too long and then they could be on their way.

“Wait here,” Pansy said. “I’ve got a discount.”

Harry watched the two kids, who pressed their faces against the glass to see what she was buying them. Quite a bit, it seemed. She came out with two straining bags of candy she gave to the kids.

“There. That should do. No go,” she shooed at them. “Off you pop. Harry and I want some time to ourselves.”

She winked at him, her face doing a fair impression of the Cheshire Cat. The kids left, but not before nearly bowling them over with hugs.

“Sweet kids,” Pansy said. She held up a chocolate frog. “Got something for us. Grown ups need candy too.”

But when Harry reached out for the wriggling frog, she snatched it away, popping it happily into her mouth.

“Rude.”

Giggling, Pansy tossed him a frog of his own. “Oh stop sulking. Now, let’s go.”

Taking his hand, she pulled him on. And Harry was as anxious to get to the part as much as she was.

They walked back to the fountain before finally opening the invitation.

“‘This year’s Samhain party can be found at 50 Berkeley Square’,” She read off. She looked up from the note, her large, deep blue eyes sparkling! “I know where that is! It’s not far, come on!”

Harry would have been in grave danger of having his arm pulled from his socket if he hadn’t been quick enough to follow, so forceful was Pansy tugging on him.

50 Berkeley Square, though it sounded to Harry like it should have been part of the more heavily plotted part of Hogsmeade, was really at the far end. Far beyond where any of the other houses were.

And maybe at one time it had been. Through the fallen leaves, Harry saw the crisp line of an ancient cobblestone lane and even the foundations of buildings and houses long worn away.

“It certainly looks the part.”

Harry had seen a few horror movies. Normally through the gaps in his cupboard, though once or twice with Dudley who needed his help as a lookout when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been away. The house was in disrepair, with cracked windows and peeling paint and falling shingles. Rusting cast iron fences surrounded the estate and kept in the barren trees.

“Oh, the Shrieking Shack has the reputation, but this place is just as haunted. I actually think it’s scarier.”

With an almost disturbing amount of glee, Pansy described the number of tragedies had occurred there, from a maid who’d gone mad without even making it through her first night to a sailor who had flung himself from a window to escape whatever was in the most, only to impale himself on the railings below.

“So why are we going there again,” asked Harry as they walked. Not that he really believed any word of it. After all, the Shrieking Shack was the most haunted dwelling in all of Britain by grace of a teenage werewolf 30 years ago.

He thought about telling Pansy that, but decided against it. No reason to spoil her fun.

50 Berkeley Square looked every bit as abandoned as the Shrieking Shack as they approached, but as soon as they crossed the threshold of the gate the estate came alive. Suddenly light was pouring out through the board up windows and loud, raucous music filled the sky.

Pansy bounced up and down on her feet, still with a death grip on Harry’s hand.

“We did it!”

Harry smiled, pulling from her grasp and putting his arm around her. She snuggled up to him as they walked to the door.

There was a house elf dressed as a garden gnome, the muggle kind, taking the invitations. It must have been to make sure no one smuggled them out somehow to people who couldn’t solve the clues. Or maybe it was to drive home the point of how exclusive this party was. Whatever Harry didn’t care. He was there and he had a spunky, gorgeous with him.

“Welcome,” the elf squeaked, taking the invitation from its place between Pansy’s fingers, “Welcome. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Stay,” he told Fang, taking off his leash and handing it to the house elf

The house they walked was full, but not as crowded as Harry would have expected. The benefits of keeping it private. Through an entry to the back, Harry saw tables of snacks and sweets and punch and butterbeer. There were chairs and couches to the side, where people were chatting playing cards.

But most of the space was devoted to the dance floor. People, couples and stags, costumed and in street clothes, were dancing to almost deafening music blared over the wireless.

Pansy said something that Harry couldn’t hear.

“What was that,” he shouted.

“I said, can you get me some butterbeer?”

“Alright.”

Harry maneuvered his way around the edges of the party, making his way to the kitchen and found with other boys on similar missions from their own dates- and really, what else could he call her at his point?

She was already dancing when he pushed his way back through to the main room. Though in a crowd of people, she still managed to be in the center of attention. Or maybe that was just to him. In any event, he cracked open his own butterbeer and watched.

When Harry had been just a boy, their teacher had read to them the story of Tam O’Shanter, about a man who loved drink too much that ran into a party of demons and witches coming home one late night. Of course, their teacher had read it to them as a serious and important part of British literature and of course all of the boys had laughed about the witch Nannie and her dress.

Watching Pansy dance, he suddenly wondered what she would do if he catcalled her, “Weel done, Cutty-sark.” She’d probably smack him. Still…

He could definitely appreciate the view.

Their eyes met and, smiling, Pansy walked over to him. Harry opened her bottle and handed it to her. Pansy drank it down quickly.

“Come on,” she said, taking his hand and trying to pull them toward the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

“Er… I don’t really dance,” he said, feeling sheepish. In fact, he never danced. He’d barely learned for the Yule Ball and had done it exactly one time then, much to the chagrin of Parvati. He would never understand how she’d found it in her to forgive him for that stunt.

“Harry,” Pansy said, looking him dead in the eye as she took his bottle and put them both aside.. “Shut up and dance with me.”

She refused to listen to him and any more of his objections and, displaying a strength she would have credited her for, pulled him with her to the dance floor.

Harry danced along with her, doing his best to keep and match her. He didn’t do a very good job of it, but if it bothered her, she didn’t show it.

Harry was relieved when the wireless finally turned a slow song. He pulled Pansy into his arms, well aware it was what she was expecting.

“You’ll like this dance,” she said, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Mm hmm.”

“And why’s that?” Harry asked.

“It’s called the Apparation. No steps.”

They swayed together to the music.

“Did you ever think we’d end up like this?”

“Never.” He would never say it outloud to her, but he’d always seen her as shallow at best and as an extension of Malfoy at worst.

“Me neither.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad though.”

“Me too.”

She squeezed him tight. He kissed her forehead. And they danced until Harry had lost track of how many songs they’d heard.

  
  


“I’m ready for a break,” Harry said, when he couldn’t dance any longer. Not without his feet rebelling and popping off his legs.

“Me too. Fancy seeing the room?”

“I won’t go mad, will?” Harry asked with a grin, following her as she weaved her through the crowd of people to the stairs.

“I don’t know. I think we’re about due for a rumor about how you’ve gone man. But I’ll protect you from the Nameless Horror.”

She hadn’t mentioned that before, but he decided not to ask.

The room Pansy took too, was small; honestly not much bigger than the room he had with the Dursleys. After they’d moved him out of the cupboard. Other than that, it didn’t look like much.

“This is it, then? The room that makes people go crazy.”

“Apparently.” She looked up at him, an impish, mischievous glint in her eye. “You know...I wouldn’t mind going a little crazy with you in here. Just a little.”

“Yeah?”

Harry’s feet moved of their own accord and he found himself backing her against the door as she fumbled behind her back with the door knob.

With his hands pressed on either side of her, Harry leaned in as Pansy stood back up on her toes.

“OI!” A boy called, sticking his head out of this closet. “We were here first. Go get your own room.

Another boy stuck his head out and made a rude gesture. Pansy sighed.

“Not my night. Come on,” she said, lacing her fingers in his. “Let’s find somewhere we can be alone.

But the rest of the doors had ties or socks or, in a couple of cases, bras hanging from the doorknobs. They had no more luck on the top floor than they did on the second and they resigned themselves to looking down stairs.

Harry yawned. They had sat down together on a short sofa to rest after they couldn’t find a room to themselves. Somehow they’d fallen asleep like that, sitting up up and leaning against each other.

He looked around, while some people had already gotten up-or maybe will still up-they weren’t the only ones who had taken a break only to drift off. Every chair, couch and loveseat was occupied by at least one person. There was even someone curled up on the little coffee table in front of them. The people who weren’t lucky enough to have staked claim on furniture were lining the walls.

Pansy was still sleeping, breathing softly as she curled up next to him. Harry nudged her until she woke.

“Hey you,” she murmured, stretching.

“Hey.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment.

“It’s getting late,” Pansy said with a sigh, when she finally broke her star.. Harry looked out the window, one which he was sure had been boarded up the night before but was now clear. The moon was low in the sky. Dawn was coming.

“I wish it wasn’t,” Harry said. “Is there anything else you wanted to do? Before we go back?”

Pansy smiled up at him. “Just one more thing.”

  
  


They walked back up the hill to the bonfire, half dragging a still drowsy Fang with them and not in the least bit surprised to see the last of the stragglers still there. There wasn’t much partying going on. More laying around and sleeping. The only ones still up were the Weasley Twins and they only had energy to wave at them.

Pansy led them to the spot on the ring of stones where they’d placed their stones. But they weren’t where they’d put them. Both of them had moved, slid through the ash together to the center of the circle.

Pansy squeezed his hand, but it wasn’t affectionate this time. No. It almost felt life fear.

“What does that mean?” He asked her. He was sure she had told him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember.

“It’s probably nothing. It’s just a silly tradition.” She thought for a moment. “Technically, you might have already fulfilled yours.”

“But what does it mean?”

“It means…” she said, “That it’s time for me to go back. Walk me back to the castle?”

Harry grinned and teased, “I don’t know. I was thinking I might ditch you.”

She shoved him playfully.

“Prat. Come on, be a gentleman and walk me back.”

“Well, if you insist.”

They took a leisurely place. For all the hours they spend together, Harry still didn’t want it to end. Pansy didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

They walked hand-in-hand until Harry saw her shivering. He put his arm around her and she snuggled up to him as they walked.

“Bet you wish you brought those furs right about now, don’t you?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, her cheek resting against him. “This is better.”

They finally got to the doors of the castle and Harry still wasn’t ready to let her go.

“Want me to walk you back to the dungeons?” Harry asked.

Pansy smiled. “I’d like that.”

Harry tied Fang’s leash to the railings of the steps and told him to stay.

The castle was still deserted as they walked the halls and down into the dungeons. It was still, after all, before dawn, though once Harry had seen her down to the Slytherin dorms, he’d have to run if he wanted to keep his promise to Hagrid to have Fang back before dawn.

Even most of the portraits were still asleep, but some of them were just waking up and they waved at the two of them as they passed.

“Thanks,” Pansy said when they reached the door of the Slytherin dungeons. “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Me too,” he said. He still couldn’t quite believe everything that had happened, everything that they’d done.

They lingered at the wall that hid the Slytherin Common Room. Harry smiled to himself as he remembered the time he and Ron had snuck in disguised as Crabbe and Goyle. Had they ever figured out what had happened?

“What?” Pansy asked, mistaking his smile.

“Nothing,” he said. It would take too long to explain.

She gazed up at him for a moment longer. Then, putting her hands on his shoulders, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his cheeks.

“Sorry, I can’t invite you in. I hope that will do.”

Too dazed to say anything, he nodded.

She winked at him. “See you around Harry.”

She had disappeared through the passage and the door had sealed before it dawned on him that he probably could have gotten more if he’d been more on the wall.

He stared one the wall, almost hoping that she’d come back. Then he shrugged. What the hell? It had been a good enough night without a kiss from the girl and she had said she’d see him around.

Whistling to himself, he walked back to the doors and back to fang.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for the this story came from reading a book on Samhain (Llewellyn's Sabbat Series, if you want to know) and as I read it, the story began to form in my mind and I knew I had to tell it. There are seven more books in the series, so I decided I wanted to follow Harry and Pansy's story throughout the year, ending on Samhain again. At time it was posted, despite what the Archive says. it was still Samhain. Yule will be posted on December 21.
> 
> This story started life as spiritual successor to In The Cards (a basically innocent story about two teens enjoying falling in love with each other). Especially with a reader comment wondering how their relationship would play out if they got together after the Second Wizarding War. You'll see further how this timeline differs (I'd be lying if I said I knew it all myself, though I do know where this ends). It also has some shades of Just an Old Fashion War Song (a chance encounter on the road leads to a better understanding between the two). There's probably also a bit of The Halloween Tree in there, given the focus on the history and rituals.
> 
> The One Crazy Night trope is one of my favorite tropes, the point that I wrote the bulk of the article on it (check the edit history if you don't believe me). So it was great to finally get to write it. Sadly, Yule won't be, but I think we're in for a lot of fun their anyway.
> 
> My American is showing, because I understand that trick or treating isn't big there. However, this is Dudley we're talking about, so I couldn't resist.
> 
> There are a few references. "History remembers the battle, but forgets the blood" comes from the movie Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (presumably after sneaking out of a serious movie). Taran Potter was named for the main character in the Chronicles of Prydain, because I as reading the web comic at the time. His birth and death date correspond with the author's own (RIP). Pansy gives her own take on the tagline from Pulp Fiction, "Girls like me don't make offers like this to just anyone." While the Wild Hunt does exist as part of folklore, the bit about the biplanes comes from Diana Praxton's Odin ( a fascinating book).
> 
> As for 50 Berkeley Square, it's a real place, albeit in London. I did a quick edit, because it was scarier and more elaborate than I knew.
> 
> A quick note to my Love and War readers, Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about it and this never took the place of writing that. I just need a week off to recharge. The next chapter is mostly finished and will be posted soon.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope to see again in December for part 2.


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